It was an indescribable sensation.
His body, his mind, his very soul were trapped in an amorphous prison of shadow. Everything around him was an absolute darkness that seemed to dissolve reality itself.
The feeling was worse than being devoured; it was a slow, terrifying erasure.
For the first time, a sliver of genuine despair and fear pierced Orion's composure. It coiled around him, heavy and exhausting, a shackle on his will.
"You see," the voice of the Great Dragon King of Light, Mondusath, echoed from everywhere at once. "I told you. You cannot escape."
Above him, in the dark firmament of his prison, a face emerged—the partial visage of Mondusath, so colossal it blotted out everything else.
The effect was nauseating. It was as if Orion was trapped at the bottom of a deep well, and the only sky he could see was the impossibly vast, leering face of the Great Dragon King.
